Exiled By Time
by Oven-Mitt Troll
Summary: An alternate past leads to an alternate future. An ashen dragon rises, guided by the hearts of those who bested him. Will the same mistakes be made or can fate be rewritten entirely?
1. Grim Fables

**Disclaimer: **The author does not own Fire Emblem Awakening for the author is not/affiliated with Nintendo or any third party developer. Therefore any plot deviations are the result of much deliberation on the part of the author and of the author's own design. I mean, this story is pretty much an AU, so I hope you enjoy reading AU's. You probably won't see many of the cannon character's from the game for at least a few chapters so please bear with me here.

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><p>Long ago in a kingdom long since past,<p>

There lived a mighty king.

The kind king was beloved by all his people,

For he and his men protected the people from many dangers.

The king's men and woman were loyal and brave

But among them one stood out as the most loyal

They loved the king and the kingdom with all their heart.

They never left the king's side.

So even when the kingdom had forgotten the warrior's name,

The people remembered them as the king's "Shadow."

The kingdom was happy and prosperous for many years,

But one day blight fell upon the land.

The people became sick and many died.

The king and his men were troubled.

The king sent his men to scour the land for healers and a cure.

But no healing magic, or medicine devised by any mortal could remedy the plague.

When no help was found the King turned to Naga for wisdom,

She told him that to the south a great fissure was the source of the land's sickness.

The Seal on the bound Earth Dragons was weakening and their hatred for life was poisoning the earth, water, and air.

So the King was tasked with strengthening the seal with the Fire Emblem,

And so he and his mighty men of valor left the capitol and went south to stop the dragon's curse on the land and its people.

When they had arrived at the fissure they were beset upon by wraths and abominations most vile that crawled out of the crag.

The King's soldier's held fast and true against the tide of battle and protected their King as the ritual to rebind the earth was performed.

Suddenly, a great claw armored in black scales emerged from the ground and made to grab and pull the King into the underworld.

But the King's Shadow leapt in front of the danger and was pulled under in his stead.

Before the King could react, the ritual completed and the fissure was sealed.

The King wept bitterly at the loss of his dear friend and all of the kingdom with him.

And so the King lived the rest of his days without his Shadow,

For without risking breaking the Seal of the imprisoned Earth Dragons there was no way to reclaim them.

So the Shadow passed from this world as most shadow's do, without a trace.

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><p>"Grandmaster?" A tentative voice called out from the doorway.<p>

A figure with long snow silver locks of hair looked up from the book of fables they clutched in their hands. The ornately carved chair they sat uncomfortably in was too small for their impressive stature. In fact they looked almost ridiculous: surrounded by stacks of books of various subjects and genres, and dressed in a dusty traveler's cloak with metal greaves and gauntlets peeking through the worn out folds. They were an odd sight to be sure.

Carefully folding the book shut and placing it on the desk beside them, they turned to fully greet the visitor with a smile. "Yes, Marine?" Their voice was low but smooth on the ears. The broad shoulders and sinewy build suggested this giant was male, but their soft features and gentle mannerisms made it difficult to be certain. A trait they remember a dear friend having, earning him many admirers and many more headaches.

The young maiden at the door fidgeted with the hem of her own cloak, she too was dressed in armor underneath. "Sorry to interrupt, but they are ready for you in the throne room."

The tall figure rose to their feet with a resigned sigh. "Then let's not keep them waiting." Placing a comforting hand on the maiden's shoulder the silver haired soldier had to bend down a bit to pass under the frame of the library door.

The pair made their way through the hallways, carefully avoiding the fallen debris and gapping holes in the castle walls as the last hours of sunlight would bathe them in the fleeting warmth of the afternoon in their passing. A few groups of familiar faces that were mingling in the great hall smiled at their approach.

The two cavalier brothers Penn and Barius nodded solemnly as they passed. The mage Galvan winked from his seat on a felled column while his apprentice Brigid continued to prattle on about how black powder could revolutionize warfare if utilized correctly. The others: Titan, Sheryl, Bosc, Pione, they were only a handful of the people that came to join the silver haired stranger's campaign even though they were not asked to come.

"Grandmaster" they called the stranger, for the stranger would accept no title higher than that, and even then the name felt like it was stolen from someone more deserving. The title carried with it the memories of countless battles alongside comrades whose faces brought such heartache and longing for a time far too distant to even dream of, least they risked drowning themselves in misery.

When the pair entered the throne room, an entirely different crowd from the lively band of mercenaries was waiting for them. A mass of warriors scarred from battles past wearing chilling sliver masks that covered their true faces with perpetual scowls stood silently around the trembling frame of the lord of the besieged castle. The quivering man looked to be in his early thirties but his pale complexion made him look more aged.

"Lord Dias, how fortunate you are to be reunited with your men like this." The silver haired giant walked calmly to the room's center where the man laid cowering. "After passing their unburied and desecrated bodies while on my travels, I could not help but overhear their most earnest desire so see you again." A thin smile and eyes clouded with anger was all that hinted to the rage swelling beneath the façade of serenity the man had, for now all semblance of softness was gone and if at all possible the silver haired stranger seemed even taller and more predatory the closer he came to the deposed lord. "I must admit, I too became eager to meet the man who had slaughtered his own men for the sake of ethnically cleansing his ranks." As the giant continued to open his mouth to speak as he stood looming over the pitiful man, the lord could then clearly see the rows of sharp teeth that seemed ready to gobble him up at a moments notice. "You look as great of a fool as I imagined you to be, to believe that loyalty could be breed and not bought with your own sweat and blood."

"W-what are you?" The effort of squeezing that question out of his trembling lips made the lord named Dias appear much smaller.

The stranger looked almost disappointed in that question as if it was the most inconsequential one to ask before offering an unreadable smile to prelude his response. "What I am is…" the smile reached up to his wine red eyes with gleeful abandon, "a tactician."

Silence hung in the air for a good long minute before it broke along with the fallen lord's sanity. His chuckles turned into short bursts of laughter turned into rancorous wheezing as he struggled to get his bearings and crawled towards his throne.

"AHAHAHA-! YES, YES! A TACTICIAN! BWAHAHAHA-!" Tears streamed down his twisted face as he heaved himself over the seat of his marble and gem studded chair. "Tell me who am I to be visited next in this nightmare, my old nursemaid? Or-or my father's mistress?! AHAHAHAHA!"

The gathering of risen warriors restlessly gripped their weapons as their former lord continued his tirade. They all looked ready to rip apart the foolish man where he sat, but restrained themselves, for the chief risen among them who was a captain in life had given no order to attack. The masked Falcon Knight, lance in hand, strode forward towards the cackling lord's throne.

"Marine, leave." The silver haired man commanded his partner who was still hanging back at the door.

"Yes, Grandmaster." She replied breathlessly as she hurriedly escaped the scene before whatever her leader sensed would happen, happened.

Once standing only a few feet away from the madman, the risen brought her hand to remove the angry mask of silver that hid her true face.

"Ah…" Dias sighed nostalgically after blinking a few times to adjust to the shadow his former soldier cast. "Justica. Truly you are as lovely as a wildflower in death, as you were in life." The russet haired Falcon Knight said nothing, continuing to stand like a resolute statue clutching her spear in one hand and her mask in the other. "It is a lamentable shame you had to have your father's filthy bloo-" The lord's words were cut off by the sharp end of her lance being impaled through his chest. Blood spurted out of his gasping mouth as Justica turned and walked back to the crowd of anxious risen. After descending the last step to the throne she raised her hand and the others swarmed up to finish the job.

Whilst her companions painted their former master's throne liberally with red, the Falcon Knight continued her walk until she stood before the tactician.

_"__Thank you."_ The breathy voice of the risen reverberated against the stone tiles of the room.

"You are welcome." The tall man bowed with a sincere smile on his face. "My friends and I will ensure that you are all given a proper burial this time."

_"__I can not say that I am looking forward to being planted into the earth,"_ Justica laughed weakly at the fact that despite everything, her and her fellow soldiers were still very much dead. _"__Are you sure you do not need any extra hands for this mission of yours?"_

"Mission? What makes you so sure that I'm on any mission?" His attempt at dodging the question was met with the deadest of deadpans a dead person could give. "I'm telling the truth! I have no mission, least not yet, but I am currently searching for one."

_"__So you've been aimlessly wandering with a party of trained warriors and you can just casually raise the dead, with no end-goal in mind?"_

"We haven't been aimlessly wandering!"

_"__I'm pretty sure you accidently found our bodies while looking for the main road."_

"In our defense we found your bodies when we were investigating the suspicious scent of decay **_while_** looking for the main road." As the two continued their verbal back and forth the rest of the risen finished what they came to the castle to do and quietly became observers to the banter going on without them.

"Look," the silver giant sighed in exasperation, "What if I told you: I was born to destroy all life?" A collective gasp rang out followed by the clattering of weapons being held at the ready.

_"__I'd politely ask you not to."_ Replied Justica, her grip on her spear tightening.

"Well that's why I'm currently without a mission," he continued, unperturbed by the sudden hostility towards him. "I don't want to be a threat to humanity, that's what I was meant to do, but to hell with that destiny!" The giant threw up his hands to accentuate his feelings on the subject. It was so compelling that the risen lowered their weapons by a full inch. "My origins, how I was born and who or what was involved to create me, are unknown even to myself." He absent-mindedly stroked his chin as he spoke. "So I suppose my mission is to find answers, and since I have basically defected from my original purpose, stop whatever my try and take my place as harbinger of death and destruction."

_"__And what exactly brought on this sudden change of character?"_ Justica asked, her curiosity mixed with apprehension.

"Oh it's a long story, with many variations, all of which are true." The giant gave a cheeky smile, "It would take a very long time to retell everything, and I must warn you it gets very confusing once the story gets to the time-travel bits."

_"__Time-travel…?" _"Yes, time-travel."

_"__I think I'll pass."_ The Falcon Knight leaned on her lance with a small smile in response. _"__You certainly are a unique tactician."_

"Heh, I'm one in a million," He scratched his cheek, embarrassed of his own boast, "Or more accurately I'm a million in one." His eyes drifted back to hers, "You still want to throw your lot in with the likes of me?"

Justica turned to look at her fellow soldiers, blood dripping from their weapons, faces unreadable behind their masks.

_"__I think we've had our fill of bloodshed for now, but if you are ever in need of help from beyond the grave, we will be more than willing to repay our debt to you for your kindness."_ She held out a hand and grasped the much larger and warmer hand of her avenger. _"__Best of luck for your journey. May the gods guide you to what you seek."_

"And may you receive the rest you deserve in your own journey through the afterlife." The tactician bowed low and brushed his lips against the knight's pale knuckles. Regardless of being dead Justica still managed a faint blush that deepened once the chortling of her fellow risen knights assaulted her ears.

_"__You still have not given us a proper name to remember you by besides your title amongst your peers."_

The tactician grimaced as if he swallowed a sour grape. "My name?"

_"__Don't tell me someone born to destroy the world has no name?"_

"I have an abundance of names! All of them however do not rightfully belong to me…" The silver giant ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "The name of my birth carries with it a heavy memory of despair, but perhaps this time it need not carry that stigma with it."

"Very well…you may know me as… Grima."

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><p><strong>(AN: <strong>I feel guilty posting this. This idea has been stewing in my head for sometime now and I hope it may inspire someone else into to writing their own take on it. Because next week I'll probably fall back into my long inactivity with the start of my last semester of college studying animation, I'll try to keep writing on the side but for my own sake will prioritize my schoolwork. Even so, until next time dear reader. ~OMTy**)**


	2. Interlude: Dissonance

Outside of time and space, that is where the final confrontation was truly held. After his vessel struck the final blow interceding the blue haired lord's attempt to seal the fell dragon for another thousand years of slumber, they gathered here: the defiant avatar, their defeated other from the future where Grima reigned victorious, and the fell dragon himself.

Grima seethed at the impudent whelp standing across from him, a young man with a solemn face framed by silver locks of hair. A look of calm replacing the fierce determination set in his eyes as he regarded his doppelganger and the overthrown god.

"You fool…" Grima hissed through his jaws full of teeth while his former mouthpiece lay crumpled in a heap beneath him, "You insolent fool! Have you no idea of the magnitude of your folly?" The dragon roared out, acrid spit flecking the ground between the tactician and him. "I offered you ascension, yet you clung to those verminous Shepherds like an insect! Do you think they will morn your death? That their love for you will bring you back? Do you still believe in Naga's words? Oh yes, I know what she told you. Ludicrous!" the dragon-god reared his head up haughtily glaring down with his six red eyes and two almond shaped holes with his parody of a human face. "Your death will be celebrated by the humans as they continue to extend their pitiful existence! But I will not be stopped here." Grima spread his wings in a display of superiority even in this realm of nothingness. "I will return to the land of the living once more and not even you can stop me, whelp!" An eruption of fire cascaded out of the fell dragon's maw and engulfed the figure of the defiant avatar.

Grima laughed victoriously while his broken puppet stared listlessly at the churning embers. However, the tactician from the future past lifted his head when a bright aura shone through the dissipating cloud of fire. He inhaled sharply. Standing in the midst of smoke and flame was their alternate, flanked by the ghostly images of the band of friends and warriors who made up the Shepherds. The specter of Yillse's blue haired Exalt grasped the shoulder of the resolute tactician who stood with an unchanged expression of peace and confidence.

"Our future is closed off from you Grima, now and forever." The silver haired tactician spoke with finality cutting through the silence.

A bellowing roar was the fell beast's response.

"Keep your pathetic future then! I have other avenues to escape through, other incarnations like this one," A feathered wing is gestured to the wincing tactician who doomed their future to Grima after unwillingly killing their best friend. "Wherever and whenever the heart of Grima still beats strong is where I will forever be!"

Robin narrowed his eyes as the aura of light faded back into him along with the apparitions of his friends. Grima cackled at his avatar's frustration as the void around them rippled like a disturbed pond of black water.

The boasting was cut short though, when out from the darkness stepped forward a multitude of men and women of varying sizes and statures. Some of them were wearing the familiar hand-me-down Grimleal cloak while others decked out in the garbs of various classes of fighters. All of the gathering shared one thing in common: a mark of Grima stamped on the back of their hands.

The entire assembly rested their hardened faces upon the fell dragon.

"Wha-what is this?" Grima hissed in confusion. Yet despite himself, Grima knew exactly what was happening. This was not the first time Grima was confronted by his avatar. Yet this time, all of his incarnations who had laid down their lives to wipe him from existence converged in this one plane, where the boundaries of space and time no longer apply. Hundreds, no, thousands of men and women stood as one force against the fell dragon. Even the threads that connected Grima to the timelines where his spirit still lingered seem lost in this entanglement of insolence.

For the first time in his known lifetime Grima felt true despair.

This made no sense to him. How could this many incarnations of himself reject him so outright? Scorn the power and turn away from the gift of immortality?

They could have all been gods, yet they clung so desperately to their humanity.

They all disgusted him. Because of them he was going to die. He was going to die and Naga and her ilk were going to live. All the death and destruction he wrought would be for naught. Grima would be forgotten.

Forgotten.

That one word sent tremors of fear throughout the serpentine dragon's body. "No…" the dragon rasped as his composure, his façade of control, cracked.

"No! No! No! No! NO!" The fell dragon thrashed and swatted and trampled the figures of rebellious humans before him. But there were no bones to crush, no flesh to melt on them, they were all like a haze that would fade for a moment but solidify a few seconds after. Grima could do nothing to them as they did nothing but stand defiantly in his presence. "NO! I refuse to be forgotten again!" Grima bellowed out in depression.

The expressionless human face of Grima contorted into that of anguish as the red orbs that wreathed it glowed angrily. Throbbing veins appeared on the face's brow as the skin around the red glowing eyes slowly turned black and the grotesque sound and smell of burning flesh filled in the void. Tears flowed freely out of its empty eye sockets and Grima desperately struggled to peel the skin that was discoloring with the claws on his wings.

Expressions of shock and apprehension flicked across the gathering as the fell dragon tore off the semblance of humanity on him like a scab. Where the human eyes were was now a flaring red snout knitted together by sinewy muscles that were red and throbbing. On the tip of its nose was a person sized indent.

**_"Pathetic."_** Rumbled out a livid voice that sounded like many voices speaking as one. The mask of flesh lay on the ground and black fire burned it away until there was nothing left but the shape of a shivering hairless humanoid dressed in taters and broken armor.

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><p>The bumpy caravan jostled Grima out of his musings and made him nearly drop the book of fables out of his hands. His eyes flickered to the soundly sleeping Marine, the heat of high noon finally getting to his apprentice. A small smile tugged at the giants lips before his brows furrowed as he once more looked upon the image illustrated on the page he was on.<p>

The twisted portrait of an Earth Dragon snarled back at him.


End file.
